


Twisted Fate

by Hypocracysim



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypocracysim/pseuds/Hypocracysim
Summary: During the locker incident, Taylor triggers not due to her lack of control, but out of a deep sense of being lost and hopeless from the depths of Emma’s betrayal, and due to this gains a powerset reminiscent of the Distortion from the Magnus Archives. No knowledge of the Magnus Archives needed to enjoy the story, but spoilers on the Distortions nature will be prevalent from early on, including information revealed in MAG 187 - Checking Out. I repeat, MINOR SPOILERS FOR THE DISTORTIONS NATURE, UP TO MAG 187 - CHECKING OUT. EITHER BE PAST THAT, OR BE WARNEDNOTE: THIS IS FRESH OUT OF MY HEAD AND I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG I WILL WRITE IT. DO NOT EXPECT FREQUENT UPDATES
Relationships: n/a
Comments: 15
Kudos: 42





	1. Creak 1.0

# Twisted Fate

### Creak 1.0

She was trapped. She couldn’t breathe couldn’t think, the metal walls were pressing in, the stench of the rancid _waste_ filled her lungs the maggots and worms were digging into her skin writhing scratching thing to get in and the door was locked and she couldn’t get out and she could feel a buzz building in her brain and a smile forced it’s way onto her face and— there was a door. It was wooden and comfortable and _shouldn’t fit in the locker_ but it did and it was there and it opened and she was out of the locker— and now she was somewhere else.

The rotting pads, the worms, and her flowed from the locker in a filthy wave into a strange corridor. The carpet was strange, a mixture of reds and oranges and yellows that reminded her of bus seats or casino floors, the walls a uniform cheery yellow interrupted by a red stripe of moulding about a third of the way up, and the roof a pleasing salmon pink. Warm domed lights were placed periodically along the ceiling, banishing any shadows and leaving the place feeling welcoming and homely. Doors were spaced evenly along the walls in a way that reminded her of a hotel, each numbered, and spaced evenly between the doors were mirrors. There were occasionally gaps in the hallway where it intersected with another, seemingly identical to it in every way, but the strangest thing was that it did not appear to have an end. Either side it extended until her view was cut off by the slight curve of the corridor. She stood from the vile heap the cascaded with her, and, as she did, the door behind her creaked shut. She should be alarmed by this, should be terrified, but she was calm, the only expression on her face a friendly smile.

Wincing at the bruises and scrapes from her thrashing in the locker, she limped along the corridor until she passed a set of mirrors, where a flicker of movement caused her to look at her reflection. The mirrors were placed exactly opposite each other, forming an infinite loop of reflections, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. No, what she noticed from the corner of her eye was that her reflection was _wrong_. At this she finally felt panic set, but she could see the amiable smile still plastered across her face, feel that harmless little grin set like concrete on her. And the rest of her reflection was what truly horrified her: she was warped, stretched like a funhouse mirror, too long legs attached to too wide hips, a waist thinner than her wrists, a ribcage that was too small for the organs it must contain leading up a too long too thin neck until it reached an almost normal head with an almost normal face— except the friendly smile on her face was now warped into a too wide and decidedly _cruel_ grin, with far too many pointy little teeth. But worst thing, far worse than anything else, was her arms, her _hands_. They hung almost to the floor, despite her reflections warped height, at least 4 feet long, but her arms were stick thin, with a slight knob where here elbows were. And hanging at the end of those twig like arms where her hands. The palms were massive, almost the size of dinner plates, with long fingers with _far_ too many joints and ending in razor sharp points that just scraped the floor.

She looked from the mirror to herself, panicked, and found that despite what its warped reflection was telling her, she still looked- well, like her. A bit too tall, gawky and thin, with no chest or curves to speak of. Her arms and legs were the normal length, and though she could still feel the smile, the one on her face said not a word of cruelty, of sadism, and pain, but instead spoke of friendship and care. But as she looked at the mirror and reached out, she feel the mess of wrong anatomy beneath her flesh, like a second skin just beneath, and knew that despite all appearances to the contrary, the mirror told the truth. And before her hand reached the mirror, the hand on the other side with its too long arm reached it, and she felt the cool of the polished glass beneath its palm, its— _her_ sharp fingers leaving tiny gouges on its polished surface. She pulled back her hand, and suddenly noticed that, despite all of the cuts and scrapes and bruises the locker had inflicted just minutes before, she was unharmed. He clothes were filthy and ragged and torn in places, but the skin beneath every hole was unblemished. Then, noticing further movement from the mirror, she watched as the small nicks she had made seconds before warped and _twisted_ in ways reality should not bend, and then the mirror was whole and untouched, identical to all of the others dotting the infinite hall.

Her stride now unhampered by injuries from the locker, and longer from whatever twisting _change_ coming here had wrought, she quickly made her way to the closest intersection, and saw that this new hallway also sprawled out infinitely in either direction, identical to the first. She should have been feeling panicked, terrified, even, but all she felt was a calm and a sense of _belonging_. And then she knew why. Though where she was would never be mapped, and was deeply inimical them on principle, she know exactly where she was in the infinite maze, and, more than that, knew how it connected to the real world. She looked back, and though the maggots and filth had long since sunken into the now unstained carpet, she knew exactly which of the doors led back to the locker that started this mess. And, looking to her right, she knew that the door in front of her, labeled 103, would lead her home.

She opened it. And she was in a hallway she knew out of familiarity rather than some unknown _feeling_ , the door to it bedroom closed from this morning across from her, her bathroom open at the end of the hall to her right. Her home was currently empty, her dad always being busy with work these days, and as she stepped through, she stumbled and fell. She looked down and knew that, while the other her, the warped and twisted yet somehow true vision of her was still there, it was now hampered by the strength of reality, and would require effort to drag through far enough to affect the world. She clambered to her feet, a bit disoriented by the sudden change in height leaving the maze caused, and stumbled to her door, throwing it open and crawling into bed.

Taylor Hebert curled up there, shivering and miserable, but with a still ever so inviting smile plastered onto her face, and knew she was a parahuman.


	2. Creak 1.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor sees some people throwing a party, and decides to join in.

#  **Twisted Fate**

### Creak 1.1

It had been months since the locker. The terrible trio had backed off for a while, probably worried that someone had let me out of the locker would take my side. But after a few weeks passed and nothing changed, they started their campaign of petty terror once more. They has started escalating faster now, Trying to wipe the grin off my face where the damn thing had stuck like glue. And whatever magic locked the amiable smile on my face also altered the tone of whatever I said, making me sound friendly and welcoming. Of course, when you talk to someone who’s just drenched you in juice like they're your friend, it comes of more as contempt, so that wasn’t helping my case much either. It had gotten to the point where I knew I had to do something before I snapped and did something stupid. The worst part is that it would be so easy, a door that shouldn’t be there when they’re not paying attention and suddenly they’re missing, never to be seen again. If I was even a bit cautious, chances are no-one would ever know.

But I would. I would know that they had broken me, made me a villain. And I was better than that. So I just grit my teeth behind that insufferable grin and took all the shit they threw my way, my only comfort in the fact that the pain would end soon, and that I _would_ be a hero.

I had spent most of my free time experimenting with my power, figuring out how the halls worked, and found a few things. Each door in the hall had a metal plaque at about eye level. Once I opened a that door somewhere, the plaque would be numbered and would always lead to the same place. The hall was fluid, its infinite intersections able to switch and the lights able to brighten and dim at my command, and so long as the plaques were unobserved, I found I could switch them around however I liked. I had also discovered that I had complete control over the doors I opened, making them creak open or slam shut as I chose, and that while anyone could open a door to get into the hall, only I could open them to go back out again.

Most of this I had discovered when I stumbled across a mugging a few weeks back on my evening jog. I had made a door behind the mugger and creaked it open just enough to get his attention, and he immediately blundered right on in to “Shut up the damn voyeur”. As soon as he had stepped past the threshold, I slammed the door behind him, and promptly found that, despite my lack of presence in the halls, I could still feel exactly where he was inside. After a few minutes pondering this new discovery, I realized that the mugger was growing increasingly frantic, so I let him out in one of the doors I had prepared beforehand. Right in the middle of the nearest police station.

And so it was that, armed with this knowledge, a knife from the kitchen, and something to prove, I found myself on a rooftop overlooking a dark street faintly illuminated by the lighters of the thugs amassed below. It was my first night out in costume, a cheap papier-mâché mask over dark tinted goggles with my spare prescription lenses glued in covering the top half of my face paired with loose blue jeans and a light grey turtleneck sweater, topped off with the damn grin plastered across my face. I had decided that I might as well lean into the friendly theme, given that I would always be smiling a friendly smile and talking in friendly tones regardless, and I was mentally kicking myself for not ‘borrowing’ some armor from a police station, because the thugs down there were members of the ABB, lead by a tall man with a metal mask, no shirt, and tattoos covering his chest. I was not ready to fight Lung. I doubted I ever would be, given his apparent ability to turn into a fire spewing monster. I knew I was monstrously out of my depth, but I could see Lung speaking, and so I decided to move closer to see if I could make out what was being said, maybe tip off the Protectorate if it was something too bad. Then I heard it.

”…the children, just shoot. Doesn’t matter your aim, just shoot. You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the little bitch twice more to be sure. We give them no chances to be clever or lucky, understand?”

Shit. Shit Shit Shit. I could see nods of agreement from the gathered gangsters, and in the dim glow of their lighters, I could make out the guns glinting, tucked into waistbands and held loosely by their sides, and knew I didn’t have a phone, that the Protectorate were too far away to get there in time even if I did call, that I didn’t have time to persuade them to let me bring them over, and that I couldn’t live with myself if I let these bastards kill _kids_. I had to do _something_. But what?

I watched as more thugs joined the crowd, as they started to head north, when inspiration struck. I crated a door behind them, let it silently swing open, then SLAMMED it shut. They all heard it, and I watched Lung send three thugs to investigate. I watched as they approached the door, felt as the opened it to the now dark hall, and when two headed inside to find the ‘witness’ while the third stood guard in the doorway, I slammed the door shut once more onto the one standing guard, knocking him inside with a nasty nosebleed and trapping all three. I could do this. I just had to play it smart, be calm.

I returned my focus to the hoard and noticed they had moved even further while I wasn’t paying attention, and knew I needed to move quicker. I made a new door and bolted inside a lit section of my halls before making another door in an alleyway I knew they’d be passing at the moment, taking my mask off and opening the door with a creak, letting the light pool in the dark alley. I peeked out, hoping to look suspicious, like the type of person to report gang activity, hoping they would see me. And luckily a few did, a group of four breaking off from the pack and heading to the door as I darted away, waiting until they were close before pretending I was calling the police, my back towards them so all they could see was my dark hair. They rushed inside, and I sprinted away before darting through another door and slamming the one they entered through behind them, glad that people tended to ignore minor abnormalities if they were pursuing a goal. Seven down.

I looked down from the roof I was now on and finally took stock of the number of ABB goons, and saw there were now 19 left. No rest for the wicked then. I headed back into my halls, setting up a new door ahead of the group, then peeking out once more as light spilled into the street. I saw Lung notice me once more, then send 3 more thugs to shut me up, and again I lured them in before turning to run and slamming the door behind them. Then there was a loud bang, and a pain in my side, and I was tumbling to the ground. I looked down, saw the blood on my sweater, and realized I’d been shot, that I’d been stupid, that I was trapped with goons with _guns_ and I was going to _die_. I used what traction I had on the carpet to launch myself to the nearest door and as it swung open to let me through I felt a strange twisting _wrongness_. Then I was through, clutching my side to staunch the bleeding, ready lo lift my sweater to look at the wound— there wasn’t a hole in the sweater. It was the same light grey it was when I put it on, and there wasn’t any pain either. I lifted it up, just to be sure, and I found that my skin was unblemished. I took a moment to ponder this, before realizing that Lung had gone another block while I was staring off into space, and he still had sixteen goons as backup. I knew that at the rate they were moving, I didn’t have too much time left before they got... wherever it was they where going, so I put my questions off for later. I had to speed things up. I put my mask back on, scooped a few pebbles up off the ground, then used the halls to come out behind them again, about ten feet away.

This time I didn’t bother with subtly trying to lure them in, I just grabbed one of the pebbles and threw it at the group as hard as I could. Which, given my lack of athleticism, wasn’t very hard. Still, as the pebble clattered against the pavement got me the attention of a few of the thugs. When they turned around and tensed slightly, I knew they had seen the mask and realized what it meant. They turned to get Lung’s attention, drawing their guns, and Lung tensed slightly and glanced over his shoulder at me. I froze as he began to turn, squaring up for a fight, before he noticed the crudeness of the papier-mâché, the fact the rest of my “costume” amounted to jeans and a sweater and the handful of pebbles I had, and relaxed slightly, turning back north, saying something in a language I didn’t know and gesturing towards me. Six of his goons started moving towards me, and now I was glad for my shoddy costume for making Lung assume I was an amateur or a wannabe, and that whatever children he was heading off to murder was more pressing than tearing my into bloody chunks. As the six thugs closed in, I darted back into the hall, leaving the door lightly ajar behind me, and heard them begin to run after me, slamming the door open and sprinting in without noticing the sudden change in location. As the door slammed shut behind the last of them and I dived through another, I could feel them realize that they had been tricked, trapped, and I felt a strange joy fill me at that realization.

By now Lung only had ten thugs left, and once again I was glad for the mind’s tendency to just gloss over certain details in favor of a goal. Now I had 16 of his men trapped, and I could do things with that leverage. Taking a deep breath, the cheery smile on my face grew wider for the first time in months as I opened a door right in front of the group stepping onto the street with confidence in my step, ready to face the monster man.

Lung held up his hand for his gang to stop, recognizing me for the nobody he just sent six men to deal with. Taking advantage of his surprise, I spoke.

“Hello! Lovely evening isn’t it? Just perfect for a late night stroll,”. The words dripped with geniality that, given the circumstances, made it sound less like a warm greeting and more like a contemptuous jibe. I could see that my reappearance and jovial tone had irritated him, his muscles starting to swell slightly and hints of scales rising under heavily tattooed skin. I continued, “Now, I’d hate to distract you from whatever it is you’re doing, but I can’t help but notice there seem to be fewer of you than I remember,”. At this, I cocked my head slightly as if curious, and watched as Lung glanced back to his goons, noticing for the first time that more than half were missing.

Now he spoke to me for the first time that night.”Where are they,”. His voice dripped with menace, and now he was growing at a visible rate.

“They seem to have gotten a bit lost,” I replied, glad that whatever stuck the smile on my face also kept the fear out of my voice. I had done well so far, but once Lung got big enough, there was nothing stopping him from ripping me apart. “I could help you find them if you’d like, but it might take a while,”. I could see wisps of flame around the edges of his mask now, his hands fully armored with scales and tipped with vicious looking points. “Of course, you’ll have to follow me closely, else there’s a danger of you getting lost yourself,”.

At this, Lung seemed to snap, lunging for me and covering the distance in seconds. Luckily for me, I was ready, and as soon as he began to move I stepped smartly back into the hall and let the door slam shut behind me before sinking it back into the wall. I paused a moment to let the halls rearrange themselves around me, before opening the new door in front of me onto the other side of the street. Lung’s arm was embedded to the elbow in the wall the previous door was in, his goons seemingly startled by the sudden violence and struggling to bring their weapons to bear.

“No need to be so angry, I was only offering to help,”. Lung spun, growing still larger as his rage grew, and ripped is arm out of the brickwork, part of the wall collapsing around him, before lunging at me once more. He was faster now, but I hadn’t left my hall, so all I had to do was let the door slam shut and fad like the last. Once again letting a fresh door arrive in front of me, I opened it once more, now on top of a nearby rooftop. ”You know, all this violence is getting you nowhere. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to just talk this out?”. By now, Lung was around seven and a half feet tall, scales coating every inch of his body. He pointed at me with one of his clawed fingertips, and as I opened my mouth to speak again a lance of fire shot from the digit straight at my head. I leapt back in surprise and heard a loud blast from below as the fire scorched the doorway and ceiling. I stepped forwards to look out once again just in time to see Lung flying towards the door at high speeds, and as I lunged back once more and tried to slam the door shut, he caught it and held it open with one clawed hand.

He barely fit through the door, being just a bit too tall and too wide for it to be comfortable, but he managed to just barely squeeze himself in. As his clawed foot hit the patterned carpet, singing it slightly with internal heat, he growled out three words, slightly garbled by his fangs and accent.

“Gonna kill you,”.

Well, things had officially gone to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this chapter contains a quote directly from Lung in Worm, Gestation 1.3, as his first line wouldn't change given the context of the situation. As is apparent, I do not own Worm or any Parahumans content, but the quote, Lung's line about killing the children, wouldn't change given that the differences between this and Worm's timeline are not sizable enough to affect them yet. Please let me know if I should cite Worm bibliography style for the quote.


	3. Creak 1.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor fights the Dragon and makes some friends.

# Twisted Fate

### Creak 1.2

I did have a plan. I think it was a pretty good one too, given the circumstances. I intended to whittle down Lung’s posse until I had enough captured that he couldn’t ignore me, and then lead him on a merry chase until the PRT showed up to deal with him. I knew I didn’t stand a chance against him up close, but I was counting on my mobility to keep that from happening, just like I was expecting him to attack me once I had enough of his men, be it out of a sense of duty to protect his underlings, or to preserve his reputation after having more than half of them snatched out from under him. Doesn’t matter much now. Because he’s in my halls, and I am oh so very screwed.

He stepped all the way inside, letting go of the door, which immediately slammed shut from the order I had been mentally screaming at it since I saw him rocketing up. Far too late to help, because unlike with all of his goons, I was now trapped in here _with_ him. I very much doubted he would let me escape, but I still tried to rush the nearest door. As expected, my path was immediately blocked by a wave of fire, and as I turned to look at him once more, he slammed his tail into my gut, throwing my into the opposite wall and nearly knocking that night’s dinner out of me. As I attempted to stagger to my feet he was on me, grabbing me by my throat before swinging me like a rag doll and hurling me further down the corridor. As I looked up, dizzy, I saw him raising a hand, clawed finger pointing at my prone form. I saw it, knew what he was doing, tried to roll out of the way as a lance of fire shot from his fingertip and I was too slow and it hit me dead on and I felt my stomach begin to _burn_ and I couldn’t feel my _legs_ and I was going to _die._

It had been less than thirty seconds since he had stepped through that door. He had hurt me, _killed_ me, in less than _thirty seconds_ , and now he was going to kill _kids_. And my dad would never know what happened to me. I would just go missing, but I knew how _fragile_ he was, that losing me would _destroy_ him. And I felt death coming to— no. No, death would be peace, quiet, stillness, but all I felt was a horrible, twisting _wrongness_ , and as I lay there with my a hole in my stomach and my intestines being slowly cooked by the residual heat, my ears filled with _static_.

I sat up. There wasn’t a hole in my sweater, in _me_ , and I felt the smile that still hadn’t left my face twist wider than it had any right to be. Lung had gone back to the door he had entered from and was attempting to tear it off its hinges, but he was shrinking slightly, thinking I was dead. Then I spoke.

“You know, that was extremely rude of you,” I began, singsong disapproval in my tone and voice full of static, ”All of this violence has been totally uncalled for,”. By now Lung was turning, growing larger once more, but I didn’t care. He had done his worst, and I was fine, and somehow I knew that I _was_ my halls and they were _me_ , and that so long as they existed in me, so to would _I_ exist in _Them_. Another bolt of flame sizzled through the air on its way to me, but my Halls _twisted_ and now I was behind him. “I haven’t done anything to you or your friends,” and now he was spinning but I was already gone, behind him once more ”Yes, they might be a bit lost, but I can hardly be held responsible for their poor sense of direction, now can I?” and now his was spinning once more, and this time I remained in place. As his metal mask came to rest in front of my Cheshire smile, I gave the nose a small “boop” before I was down the hall once more, looking at where the singe from his last bolt warped away into nothing.

“What _are_ you,” he rasped, almost unintelligible through his fangs and accent, and I saw he was wary. How silly.

“A friend!” I cheered, the static popping around the word. And it was true, in some strange way. This man was a murderer and had almost _killed_ me, but I still saw whims a friend. I saw _everyone_ as a friend, I realized with a start, from strangers to Endbringers to Emma. And instead of hatred for their cruelty, I found that all I felt was.. disappointment. It filled my voice as I continued ”Though you don’t seem to like me very much. What a shame,”. He rushed me, and I was by the door he had been trying to rip off, resting a hand against the unmarked wood. “You know, coming in here was a horrible idea for you. After all, You’re faster than me, stronger than me, tougher than me. Out there, it was only a matter of time before you caught me, and out there I’m barely more than just, well, _me_ ,” and suddenly I was perched on his shoulder, feet swaying and head just barely scraping the roof. “In here, though,” and he swiped at me and this time I let him catch me, and as he brought me up to his masked face I continued, static growing louder”In here, I am _all_ of my Halls, and my Halls are _infinite_ ,”. Now he had lifted me high enough I could see his eyes, now slitted and reptilian, through the holes in his mask. Flames traced around the edges of the finely shaped steel, and I knew he was preparing something big. I stayed still and let it happen, and when blue fire and plasma shot from the roaring mouth of his mask, I felt it pouring around my head, reducing it to ash and cinders over and over before the damage twisted away into nothing once again. He kept it up for almost a whole minute, and when he let up, I saw his back was hunched to prevent him from bumping his head on the roof.

I laughed, not a laugh of contempt or sadistic pleasure, but a kind laugh, as if he had just told a joke, with a small edge of static. He was panicking now, I could see it in his eyes as he threw me down my Halls and began to attack the Door that let him in. I was next to him I an instant, watching him pelt it with strikes from fists that could crush concrete, slashes from claws that could cut steel like paper, gouts of flame that could make an Endbringer flinch, and I laughed lightly again. “It won’t work. My Doors only open inwards, and here they draw power form my Halls as well,”. At this, he turned to me once more, and I could see him growing faster now, inches taller every second, quickly filling the entirety of my Hall with his hunched form. He grabbed me, took my wrist between two clawed fingers, and SLAMMED my hand into the the door’s handle hard enough to shatter the bones inside. The handle didn’t budge. I laughed once more, and static hissed as the friendly chuckle echoed off of Lung’s massive scaly hide and through my endless Halls as he dropped me and renewed his attack on the door, growing bigger and _stronger_ and more _powerful_ until suddenly— he stopped.

He was too big. My Halls may be rather wide and tall, big enough for a 10 foot giant to stand without trouble and wide enough for them to la down with only a slight curl, but Lung was now almost 20 feet in height, and nearly half as wide. My Halls weren’t big enough for him to grow any larger, or even for him to move. “See?” Now there was an edge of amusement coming my tone, and I spoke as if I was a child who had just watched their friend eat a bug on a dare. “I told you coming in here was a bad idea. My Halls are infinite and draw power from themselves. If you had stayed outside, you could have continued to grow faster and stronger and there’s nothing I could have done, but in here? You’re just as lost as your friends,”. At this, Lung struggled and grunted, obviously trying to shrink but too hopped up on adrenaline to manage. “Now I’m going to go and make sure our friends outside don’t do something silly and make a mess,” and I saw him begin to panic at the thought of being left here to rot. “Don’t worry, I won’t be gone long,” and with that, the door he had been so desperately trying get through warped its way in front of me and swung open, and I saw Lung slump slightly as I stepped back out onto the roof.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I felt the static that had made me untouchable just seconds before leave me, and I collapsed from the sudden exhaustion. Struggling to my feet, I checked the smile on my face before stepping out over the edge, preparing to try to talk the remaining goons into… something. But hen I looked, they were piled on the ground in an untidy heap, zip-ties on their wrists and a massive… _thing_ standing over their whimpering forms. And, standing around the gash Lung had left in the wall when he first rushed me next to another mass of twisted muscle and bone, were four figures in costumes. As if sending my gaze, one of, a girl wearing a purple bodysuit and domino mask, looked back at me before motioning to the others. Purple mask and another one, gender ambiguous and tall, dressed in black with a white skull painted on an otherwise featureless black mask, climbed onto the muscular thing next to them. I realized what they were doing and quickly checked if I had my most winning smile on my face. Yep, still there. I stepped back from the edge and leaned against my Door as the beast leapt onto the rooftop, the two figures mounted on its back.

“What happened to Lung,” the Tall black figure spoke in a masculine voice, suspicion evident it and his body language. Still smiling, I gestured to the Door behind me, the bright red doorway and solid wooden Door inside standing out against the otherwise dark rooftop. The man, seeming to mistrust be and my smile,dropped off of his mount and stepped forwards menacingly, before Purple followed him down and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“She means he’s trapped in there, not that you have to go through her to get to him. She’s a friend, isn’t that right?”. At this, Purple turned to me, and, too tired to bother speaking, I nodded. “See? Not a threat in the slightest”.

The man in black relaxed at this, before speaking once again, ”Sorry about that, it’s been a rough night. You’ve really saved us a lot of trouble,”. His tone, while still gruff and muffled, was friendlier now, and he reached out his hand as if to shake mine. Still slightly wary about his earlier hostility and too tired to speak, I hesitated slightly before taking it. His grip was firm, but reassuring. Releasing my hand, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder before continuing, ”When we heard Lung was coming for us, we freaked out a bit. Spent the better part of the day trying to figure out what to do, before we decided we’d meet him halfway and work things out from there. Horrible plan, but hey, we’re not dead,”. At this, it clicked. While I couldn’t see much of the tall one, but the Purple girl up here with me and the two in the street looked to stop be in their teens. _Children._ They were who Lung was targeting, and, judging by the fact that I didn’t recognize them from the Wards or the New Wave, they were either Rouges who could have taken care of themselves… or villains. I looked from the Skull painted on the mans mask to the twisted heart of bone and muscle they rode to the roof, and sighed internally. _Villains it was, then_. Oblivious to me mentally kicking myself, the man continued, ”We met Lee and half a dozen thugs, but Lung didn’t come. Lee is no pushover, but there’s also a reason Lung’s the leader of the ABB. When he didn’t show up, Lee panicked and ran,”. At this, the man chuckled before continuing, ”I guess you’re the reason Lung never arrived,”. He paused, waiting for me to reply, but at this point I was worried about saying something stupid and having them turn on me. I was in no state to talk, let alone fight, and after an awkward pause, the man spoke up again. ”What did you do to Lung anyway? I don’t see that door stopping him for long,”.

“Trapped him in some sort of pocket dimension, it looks like”, the Purple girl replied before I spouted whatever lie my exhausted brain could come up with. “He’s probably unharmed in there, as Smiles here doesn’t look like much of a fighter- no offense,” here I nod reassuringly, slightly offended, and she turns her gaze to the door, “Though I’d say he’s nursing one hell of a bruised ego. You might want to lay low for a while when he breaks out, because guys like him don’t take humiliation lying down,”.

Purple suddenly looked back at me as if remembering something, “Oops, almost forgot to introduce ourselves. I go by Tattletale, and my lovely assistant here is Grue”, at this, the man- Grue, turned to look at her, and I could imagine the withering look he was giving her from behind his mask. Ignoring him, Tattletale continued, pointing down into the street at the other two, ”The one with the dogs”, I blinked- _Those things were dogs?-_ “prefers to be called Bitch, but the PRR call her Hellhound so as not to corrupt the little kiddiwinks. And, last and least, the weedy boy dressed like a renaissance faire is Regent.”

“Screw you too, Tats” A voice echoed up from the street, accompanied by a chuckle taking away any of the edge the words could have had.

After a mother pause, Grue crouched next to me, worry apparent in his voice as he asked, ”Hey, are you alright?”

As I nodded, surprised by the concern, Tattletale spoke up ”She’s not hurt, she’s just tired and shy,”. She opened her mouth continue, before suddenly stopping and jogging to the mass of muscle that was apparently a dog, smile dropping as she called out ”Heads up. Time to go unless we want company”. Grue quickly joined her on the dog, and after a whistle from the street, the other dog jumped up laden with Bitch and Regent, a third hound leaping from who knows where to join them.

Grue turned to me from atop the beast. “Want a ride?”.

I shook my head, still seated against my Door and feeling slightly better after having such a long rest.

“Hey, you have a name yet?” Tattletale asked from behind Grue. When I shook my head, she continued, “Well, Smiles, you’ve got less than a minute before a cape shows up. PRT member comes and finds a few baddies duking it out? They’re not letting either walk away. You should probably leave,”. And with that, she flashed me a smile to match my own as the three dogs leapt into motion once more, striking away.

It was then I realized that not only had I just risked my life saving villains from Lung, they had mistaken me for one as well. And there was a Protectorate cape on the way who could easily make the same mistake. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, too, there are a lot of similarities in the dialogue of the Canon, though this time I made sure to change the phrasing. The reason I have been sticking so close to the canon thus far is that, while Taylor has a vastly different powerset, She's still mostly the same person, so she would do mostly the same things, and she hasn't done anything bug enough to mark a major trajectory shift in the story. Honestly, this will probably remain fairly similar to canon until Bakuda's power play, though of course there will be differences in the fights due to Taylor's differing powerset and demeanor.

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERSISH FOR THE STORY  
> Cape Name: N/A(yet) (Taylor Hebert)  
> (Tentative)Classification:  
> Mover 10  
> Shaker 2  
> Brute 1  
> Breaker 1  
> Thinker 2  
> Striker 1  
> Changer 1  
> Stranger 6
> 
> I honestly think that, given the trigger reasons given for each classification on the Parahumans Wiki, Taylor could have easily triggered in far more than a master thinker combo. Here are my reasons in brief for believing a powerset like this is possible in the context of the story, given the immense amount of psychological stress Taylor was put under for years. Here is my reasoning: Mover was created by a desire to escape the locker, and a feeling of being lost in how to deal with Emma’s campaign of terror. Shaker was her desire to be left alone(?) or the constant apathy or enmity of the rest of the school’s population creating a deeply hostile environment. Brute was the small but uncountable little injuries that added up over the course of the year, resulting in her becoming a Regen Brute. Breaker is due to he feelings of wanting to be ignored by her tormentors(?). Thinker is the environmental stress of being at school, like with Shaker. Striker is the physical threat of the locker itself. Changer is her self hatred over body image (given the only thing she likes about her appearance is her hair). Stranger is once again her desire to hide from her tormentors, as well as her desire to go beck to how things were and be friends with Emma again.
> 
> Then again, the main reason I gave Taylor this powerset is I think that the Distortion is cool, and I think that a Taylor with the Distortion’s powers would be interesting


End file.
